One Light in the Darkness

((As most know, this community has undergone multiple server changes, and ownership changes. As a result, our final name was chosen to be PhoenixRisen, symbolizing rising from the ashes of our past incarnations.))

A cloaked figure approaches you. His hunch and staggered step suggest he is weary, or old, or both. He carries with him a rusted and creaking lantern in his left hand, and a small bell in his right hand. Holding the lantern up to his face, you can see battle scars have disfigured it. A foul cloud emanates from his mouth as he begins to moan out his story to you.

You have heard of the Phoenix, correct? The great light that glows eternally. He pauses, taking a breath. But where there is light, there is darkness. And the Phoenix is no longer the only light.

The monsters and ghoulies you fear are quick to stay away from the burning ferocity of the Phoenix that illuminates that which you cannot see. But in the distance, there is a tiny speck, often clouded by lanky figures and rushes of shadow. It is here you will find Kurai, the One Light in the Darkness.

The town of Kurai is a part of the darkness that surrounds the land. We-- They are where there is no light. As such, they have created their own. They have adapted to the darkness, thrive on it, and suffer from it. Endless assaults of horrifying creatures press on and have hardened the residents within. Giant walls have been erected to keep out the living nightmares. Fires burn and little light shines within this town. They are but a faint glow. It is in this constant assault, however, that they have learned to use the darkness; learned to play it to their side.

The old man rings the bell slowly. After a few chimes, a bloodcurdling scream is heard in the distance. He looks out far, shakes his head, and rests his weathered eyes on you once more.

Another falls. The residents of Kurai have adapted to the darkness. They are in the caverns you dare not look down, the cellars you barricade off, the forests where there is no sound, the corners you stay away from, the roads you dare not tread upon! And if you were foolish enough to come upon this town, you would find only stillness, for the residents do not move in the presence of the living.

They do not move if you can see them.

The old man rings the bell again with a sigh.

I must go now. I advise you, young adventurer. Do not seek safety in that light, for their only safety is in death.

As you wander, lost in this vast world, you come upon a path where the trees grow gnarly and the road curves awkwardly. Grass rustles on your side as you turn your head to look. A sharp pain scatters across the back of your skull as you collapse.

Waking up, you find yourself in a cold chamber. Stone walls surround you, blood splattered up the sides. Attempting to move, the chains keep you attached to the table. Your noise alerts a nearby presence. The shadows in the room scatter as a figure hovering in the corner lifts its head. The room is pitch black, save for a light emanating from a rusty lantern sitting on the table near the figure. The figure stretches back, standing up straight if only for a moment before returning to its resting hunch. It reaches for the lantern, letting the light float across its tattered robes. A skeletal hand gingerly grips the rusty lantern, and with great strain, the figure turns to face you. It pauses, breathes in and exhales slowly as it moves toward you. It sets the lantern next to you, and you can barely make out the bony features of its face.

It raises its hand and brings it down across your face swiftly. Shouting at you in a hoarse, yet deeply powerful voice, "You didn't listen!." Judging by the voice, you guess this was once a man. He sighs, and looks at you again. "Why did you come out here? You were warned to not chase after the One Light! Still though, if you intentionally ignored my advice, you must have some sense or none at all."

You fight the chains again, rocking the table slightly as you yell at him, "Who are you, where are we?!"

He looks at you from under his hood, face avoiding the lantern's light. "You needn't know who I am. Know that I lead this forsaken land, and thrive within it. This, land, you're in, can be known as 'Kurai Tochi,' or, 'Dark Land,' for it is plagued by darkness. Great warriors have fallen in these fields and... fertilized... the ground. You can still hear them suffer. There was once a great manor atop a powerful mountain. It has fallen into disrepair, and later, rubble. While it stood, many souls were stolen and wrapped into this land.

Enough history though. It is now a fortress to keeps fools such as yourself out. You could call this a 'town.' That's what everyone else used to call it, anyways. There are supplies, homes for our eh.. residents. Everything to make a 'town.' Except life. You will find none of that here. If you leave this room, you will find yourself on the ground outside the keep. The exit is a short walk away."

His gaze lingers on you before turning to the exit tunnel. He speaks, but not to you. "Do not make eye contact with anything around, even if it seems friendly. Do not stare. Do not hesitate. Just keep moving forward." His gaze looks at you once more,"I'll release you, so long as you leave and not return. If you choose to come back when the light is absent, heavens help you. I will take that as your choice in your decision and you will become a resident like the others."

The figure undoes the chains, and offers you a small vial filled with barely any water. Lifting a bony arm, he points a rotted finger at the doorway and stares at you with empty eyes. Heart pumping, you roll off the table, weaker than you imagined yourself to be. You pick up your belongings and move as quickly through the tunnel as you can. The light blinds you as you exit and regain a little strength. Seeing the gate in the distance, you rush towards it as the shadows rush around you. Navigating through the gate, you run outside, growing more and more weary until you collapse just outside the walls. Rolling on your back, you see a large brazier illuminating the entrance to the gate tunnel, and the fortress walls that stretch around it. In a heavy state of breathing, you push yourself onto shaking legs and move away from Kurai Tochi.

Night has fallen over the world, smothering it in cold darkness. There's a biting chill in the air around Kurai Tochi. A peculiar stillness clutches the town, quite unusual for such hurried residents. A howling wind carries deathly moans over the walls and across the surrounding forests, whipping through the leaves and dissipating into the air.

Our skeletal figure sits inside a necropolis hovering above the treeline. He moves slowly, lumbering over to a gap within the structure. His gaze moves slowly downward, eyeing a figure dashing between the trees. Looking closer, we see that this new adventurer is sprinting through the trees. His leather armor is stripped and ragged, falling off. Possessing no shoes, his feet are cut up and bleeding footprints onto the ground. It sounds as if an army of men are chasing him through the woods. A young face is no longer recognizable under the blood and dirt coating it. A hoarse cough escapes as he stumbles, but recovers quickly. Shielding his eyes, the adventurer sprints through the brush. Lifting his hand, we see piercing eyes cut into the darkness. He looks over his shoulder quickly, and turns back, breaking through the clearing in the trees and coming upon the looming walls of Kurai. He slows his pace and stops, bending over with ragged breath. The air is still, silent, abnormally so. The adventurer gathers his breath and takes note of his surroundings. Looking right, a large, rusty lantern hangs in the distance, lighting up a striking gate entrance to the town. Looking left, the walls stretch and bend around a corner. Looking up, torchlight shimmers through gaps in the walls. Our adventurer looks left again, then begins jogging for the gate entrance.

The moon is barely overhead, illuminating the ground outside the walls. It casts a cool white light onto our adventurer as he moves toward the entrance. Standing under the lantern, he looks down the seemingly infinite tunnel. Pitch blackness reaches deep. The adventurer pauses, looks at the woods behind him, and grows uneasy. Shrubbery rustles as though there are people stalking the treeline. He turns back to the gate, and begins to limp inside. His foot drags behind him, must've been injured when he stumbled. He limps out into the town and looks around. He turns to face the woods presented before him. It is then he notices the shadows shifting around him. Taking note, he continues forward down a narrow path through these trees. He moves around a corner and the ground gives out from under him. He falls for what seems like forever, until he lands on his feet with an earth-shattering crack on the packed dirt below. Pieces of bone rest nearby, scattered through the room. The adventurer's legs have all but shattered beneath him. His screams of pain rush out of the crypt like souls out of a phylactery. They reach far and wide, alerting nearby presences and eventually, the skeletal figure residing within.

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The skeletal figure is no longer seen in the necropolis. Instead, he has made his way to his fortress where he resides, and sits upon a stone throne. His sword rests next to him, fresh with blood. He sighs, and looks around the chamber with soulless eyes. Shadows move slowly around the room, but dare not come close to his seat. The supposed king moves a withered hand to the pommel of his blade, and rests his fingers around it. A piercing scream echoes through the room. Taking a heavy breath, he moves his hand to the grip of his sword and clutches it firmly. With creaking limbs, he stands up, shambling over to the staircase leading to the pit holding the adventurer.

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Out of breath, our adventurer heaves as tears stream down his face. Blood has seeped out of the wounds created where his bones broke skin. Lying on his back, the pool of blood has soaked his leather and his hair. He turns over, looking down a nearby tunnel. A faint light sways back and forth, revealing a ragged cloak, and a sword. There is one figure, but many shadows accompany him. Another cry of pain croaks out of his mouth as he looks up to the night sky. The dark void of space has never seemed more welcoming. Turning again, the skeletal figure is standing above him, lantern in hand.

Hoarsely, he states matter-of-factly, "It seems you're in a bit of a bind."

The adventurer turns his head in brutal agony, tears pushing the dirt and blood away as his face contorts into one of suffering. "H..please..help..."

Our skeletal figure nods, and waves a hand forward. The shadows that followed him in, circle the room quickly and vanish. The figure looks down, and the dirt beneath the man begins to shift. It churns under him, breaking in various places around him. Quickly, and in great numbers, diseased and rotted hands shoot from the earth and grip the man. They begin to claw at his arms, scraping bone tips and fingers into his skin with jagged movements and force. Black blood slithers out of the wounds. More scratches, more screams, more blood. The hands continue, grabbing and clawing at anything they can, yet leave his head alone. The skeletal figure stands by idly, watching the spectacle. The adventurer's skin has peeled off, flesh exposed to the air. The chill bites the wounds around him. Out of breath, the adventurer can no longer scream, he just writhes in agony. The hands have begun to pull flesh from bone. His eyes are no longer piercing, emotional, or teary. They simply stare straight up, accepting fate. More hands reach up and start gripping at his face. They peel skin back, gouge his eyes out, and rip teeth from bone. Our adventurer is motionless; dead, most likely. The hands cease their attacks as the dirt continues to shift. The adventurer is devoured by the earth slowly. After what's left of his head disappears, the skeletal figure runs his foot across the dirt. There is no sign of the adventurer having ever been here.

Our skeletal figure turns slowly, and moves slowly down the tunnel, lantern swinging along the way. His shadow is the only one to be found, and the town is still. The air is no longer chilled, and the wind has stopped. The moon is ready to retreat into the horizon once more.

We return to our cloaked figure roaming the halls of the town's library. Scrolls and books and shelves reach the ceiling and seem to stretch on forever. The room is mysteriously dark, our figure's lantern one of few lights that dare reach around. He sets the rusty lantern on the ground, and eyes the shelves before him. He runs a hand across the spines, reading them, "Solara. Gents. Shadows." He stops on the last name, pulling it off the shelf. The author's name was scratched off, what remains is "X--o-l--f." A sigh escapes his barely functioning lungs. Most of the pages are weathered, torn, or otherwise ripped out. What remains is the following; a short summary:

"I don't know how you came across this text. It was bound in the halls of our once great town. In the desert our spires loomed, casting menacing shadows over the dunes. Walking close you were greeted with either a long drop into the abyss, or venturing towards our fortified structure. Our residents spread fear and terror throughout the land, and yet, we also had some of the most kind and artistic citizens one could imagine. I, (the name has been scratched over) "-er-f-uf-," helped design this great city. And with some help, my vision came true."

Our cloaked figure throws the book to the ground, muttering, "And with some help, your city was razed by the sands of time." He moves further down the bookshelf, lifting a large, gold-wrapped book off the shelf. Weak bones struggle to place it on a nearby table. The cover contains one word: "Eden". The figure runs a skeletal hand over the surface, smiling softly. "Oh, how things have changed." Contained within the book are personal stories of the town's residents, claims to glory by its leader, and lastly, a colored sketch on the final two pages, depicting all the residents of the town standing proud, their leader in front, surrounded by diamond-clad soldiers, all wielding sharpened blades. One soldier, however, stands with his leader, but to the side, as if he's not quite there. His sword is stained with blood, and looks to have never been cleaned. A shadow is cast across his face from his helmet, obscuring his features. His armor is dirty, unlike the others around him. It has no sheen, no sparkle, and has seen its share of combat. The figure sighs, and closes the book, tucking it under his arm. He reaches for the lantern, gripping it and hoisting it above him as he makes his way to the exit. He lumbers along, lantern swaying slowly as he turns a corner towards the exit. The lantern's light passes over a sealed glass case. Within the case rests a suit of armor. The figure glances at it as he quickens his pace past it. The armor we see in the case is strangely familiar.

The lantern light shines across the suit momentarily, revealing a flurry of clawed scratches.